


Encircled You in Trenches and Barbed Wire

by texankate



Series: And Let Me Set the Battlements on Fire [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Because Tony don't have time for his s#!+, But Steve better work his butt off, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Fix-It, Hurt Bucky, Hurt Steve, Hurt Tony, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:21:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/texankate/pseuds/texankate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Someone is using the fractures in the Avengers Team to their benefit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Then I Went Off to Fight Some Battle

Logically, he knew that the suit was able to filter out smells.  That didn’t keep the smell of burning building from flooding his nose as he searched the bottom floor of the building.

Luckily, the explosion had been away from the more public areas of the first floor.  The lobby had emptied of people within minutes, streaming out along with the smoke.  The rest of the floor included the reactor room, which had filled with fire suppressant immediately, and a few more of the operational departments like maintenance and mail.

Tony figured that the bomb had probably come in with the mail.  He and Friday had been looking at moving all mail sorting off-site, but they hadn’t done it yet.  It wouldn’t have saved everyone, but maybe a few.  

“Tony, I have cleared the maintenance department,” Vision said over coms.  “There were two men there.  I assume the others were off doing repairs in other sections of the building.”

“Thanks, V,” Tony replied.  He neared the mailroom, noting that the fire burned hotter there.  The guy in charge of the mailroom, Christos, he thought, had been a great guy.  Always showed Tony the pictures of his two girls, Mara and Thea.  Cute kids.  He made a mental note to visit them personally and apologize, and to tell their mom that she’d never have to worry about money or anything else.  Cold comfort, but it was all he could do.

He found him huddled behind one of the x-ray machines.  The source of the blast was down one of the garbage chutes.  Christos must have realized what was happening, and then tried to mitigate the blast.  Maybe if he had run, he might have made it.  But he had stayed and tried to help.  

Tony thought he might throw up.

There were no survivors that he could tell from this floor.  It was time that he and Vision started moving up.  He started making plans with Friday for what to do next.

“My gal, we’ve got to start planning for the aftermath,” he said.

“On it, Boss,” Friday replied.

“First thing, we need to make sure that the employees are covered.  I mean full salaries and benefits until we get up and running again.  Anyone who doesn’t feel safe working for me anymore, I want to give them a year’s severance and outplacement help…”

 

“I cannot let you go back to New York at this moment,” T’Challa said.  

Steve was ready to hit something.  “We have to go back and help them,” he argued.  “Someone tried to hurt them.”

“Steve, do you really think Tony would accept our help right now?” Sam asked.  “He’d be as likely to believe that we were the ones behind it.”

The horror of that statement made Steve sink onto the sofa.  “He wouldn’t…”

“He might,” Natasha said.  “Even if he doesn’t think we were trying to kill him, he won’t trust us to help.  He’s been pulling up the drawbridge for months.  He has ignored any and all attempts to reach out to him, barring the one that Bruce made on our behalves.  He as much as told the world we were dead to him.  I don’t think he’s going to be happy if we show up on his doorstep.”

“And if you do show your face in New York, one of two things are likely to happen,” T’Challa said.  “You are either arrested, or they try to arrest you and you make the situation worse by escaping.”

Steve buried his face in his hands.  He had screwed this up, no two ways about it.  And he’d done it in a way that  continually screwed Tony over. 

He’d been looking back at his actions, and there was more than one point where he could have made a better decision, most importantly telling Tony the truth in the beginning.  But he hadn't, and then he'd made sure that he was the one who ended up with all of the backup.  Friends.  Natasha would have been useful in seeing this sort of thing coming.  Clint too.  Sam could have helped Rhodey keep an eye out.  Wanda could have protected people.

And Steve.  Well.  He could have followed Tony into the fire, to watch his back.  

And now he was stuck in Wakanda, unable to help.  People were dying because he had been too fucking stubborn to listen.  Too naive.  Rhodey had it right.  He was dangerously arrogant.

And it was time that he faced that.

  
  


“Looks like you got your big boom,” the man said, smirking at the television coverage.

“Indeed,” the woman said.  “That should drive the rats from their hiding places.  They won’t be able to help themselves.”

“Any particular rat you’re looking to trap?” the man asked.  

“Any or all will do, although I do like that little witch” she said.  “And why are you so happy to help?”

“I want the big guy,” the man said.  “I owe him a couple.  The red-headed bitch too.”

“I wish you happy hunting, then, Mr. Rollins,” the woman said.

“And what about you?  If I come across your witch, how do I get in contact?” Jack Rollins asked.  With the Hydra network crippled, it was hard to keep in contact these days.

“I will hopefully be returning home soon, but until then, call this number,” she said, writing down a series of digits.  “And ask for Malice.”

 


	2. That I’d Invented Inside My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guests arrive.

He needed a new job title.  ‘Tony Stark, Collector of Lost Souls’ had a nice ring to it.

With the tower out of commission, they had removed to the old mansion on Fifth Avenue.  It would take a bit of work to get it updated, but they could do the work themselves, leaving the construction crews to deal with the tower.

Two days after they settled in at the mansion, Vision alerted Tony that there was someone at the delivery entrance, trying to get in without alerting the media that seemed to be camped out in front.  

“Well get rid of them,” Tony said.  “I don’t have the bandwidth to deal with random strangers at the moment.”

“They’re not exactly strangers,” Vision said.  “I really do think you should come down.”  

Tony pulled himself up from the floor where he had been installing security wiring.  He followed Vision downstairs and then into the kitchen, where Vision left him while he went to fetch their guests.  

Unless you really knew Stark Manor, you would never realize that the delivery entrance was part of the house.  It looked like it belonged to the neighbors, but in reality wound its way under the alley and into Tony’s kitchen.  All in all, it was about forty yards of hallway, which gave Tony plenty of time to wash his hands and grab a bottle of water.

He settled down at the table when he heard voices coming up the stairs from the hallway.  He was glad that he’d swallowed his water, because otherwise he would have sprayed his guests in his surprise.

“Uh.  Missus Agent.  Tiny Agents.  Dead Agent,” he said, nodding at them.  “What brings you to Casa Stark?”

Laura Barton pushed her children down into chairs around the table.  She and her escort, the formerly dead Phil Coulson, took seats next to them.

“We found someone shadowing Laura and the children,” Phil explained.  “I don’t know if it’s the same people that hit the tower, but just in case, I’m bringing them here, where you can protect them.”

“Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to help, but why me?” Tony asked.  “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, on a plane to Africa, for instance?  Joyful reunion and all that?”

Laura gave Tony an unimpressed glare.  “Vision,” she said sweetly.  “Could you and Phil take the kids to grab our things?”  

Vision stared back and forth between them for a few moments.  “Of course,” he acquiesced.  “We will only be a moment.”

Once the rest of them had gone back down the hallway, Laura turned to Tony.

“Why would we go to Africa, Tony?” she asked.  “The only thing in Africa is my idiot asshole of a soon to be ex-husband.”

“WHAT?” Tony yelped.  “But--”

“But nothing,” Laura said.  “I am so angry with him right now.  He left us to be an international fugitive, following along after Captain America.  I’ll be damned if I put up with that.”

“Laura, he was the only one to actually have a real issue with the Accords.  Him choosing not to sign was totally understandable,” Tony said.  God help him, he was defending Barton.  What in the hell?

“No it wasn’t, when you consider that he could have kept his ass at home,” Laura said.  “This wasn’t haring off on some routine SHIELD mission, Tony.  Nor was it the end of the world.  He put us all in danger because he couldn’t be bothered to talk to you and figure out a solution.  Seems to be a theme with Cap’s team.”

While Tony didn’t disagree, he was still shocked.  He knew that Barton adored his wife and children, and losing them was going to wreck the man.  

“If he’d stayed retired, it never would have touched us,” Laura continued.  “Or if he’d signed, at least we would have had some protection.  But he went off and joined a known fugitive.  Did he not even think that maybe Ross would find out about us and use us as leverage?  Part of the reason I filed for divorce is that hopefully it would convince Ross and his goons that we weren’t the way to get to Clint.”  Her head dipped and her shoulders began to shake. 

Tony had never been good at giving comfort, but he did his best.  He looped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him.  She allowed herself to cry for just a few moments before she sat up and began pulling herself together.

“So no, I can’t go to Africa.  And I won’t have the kids living on a SHIELD base.  Tony, we sheltered you once, and now I’m asking you to return the favor,” Laura said, looking him straight in the eye.

Well shit.  He’d add a couple of more bedrooms to the list.

  
  


May Parker was not an idiot.  She worked hard every day at a job she hated to provide for her nephew, but she wasn’t so busy that she didn’t notice things.  Things like Peter getting into more fights.  Like packages arriving from Tony Stark.  Like how this Spiderman kid on the television had some very familiar physical quirks.  

She hated to break Peter’s trust, but she had to know for sure.  So one day she called in sick while Peter went in to school.  She rooted through his rooms and found an old red and blue suit, like the ones from the early Youtube videos.  The newer videos had a much nicer, more technologically advanced suit, probably thanks to Stark.  

She didn’t know whether to kill him for encouraging Peter or thank him for at least giving him some measure of protection.  Ever since the man had first shown up at her door, Peter had sung his praises.  ‘Mr. Stark said this,’ or ‘Mr. Stark suggested that I use that’ were part of their daily conversations. 

May held her tongue.  Knowing Peter, and having known Ben, she was pretty sure that nothing could stop her nephew from doing what he thought was right.  And if Stark could at least rein him in a bit… 

She knew that she couldn’t push too hard, or she would lose him.

So when she saw that Stark Tower had been bombed, her first thought was for Peter, not the men and women who lived and worked there.  She knew that he couldn’t deal with losing another father-type figure.  Her other worry is that other people would find out about Peter.  And that they would come for him.  

Screw pushing too hard.  She’d die before she let them hurt him.  

When Stark had emerged from the burned out shell, she had said a quick prayer of thanks.  And then she had started plotting.  Three days after the bombing, she had picked Peter up from school, much to his surprise.  

“Hey May,” he said, sliding into the passenger seat of her car.  “What’s up?”

May turned to him and really looked at the young man she was raising.  Brilliant and kind, goofy and sweet.  And just so very good down to his bones.  The thought of what might happen to him if he was caught alone and without backup made her sick to her stomach.  So she would have to make sure that he was never in that position.

“We’re going to Manhattan,” she said.  Peter looked at her with surprise and concern, but she refused to explain anything more than that.  She dropped down and took Queens Boulevard into Manhattan.  She avoided the mess that surrounded Stark Tower, turning instead up Fifth Avenue.  Peter didn’t say a word, but she noticed that he got more and more tense as they neared their destination.

“Why are we going to Mr. Stark’s, May?” he asked.  “I'm sure he’s too busy to want to see me.”

“Nonsense,” May said.  “As much time as he spends sending you gadgets and checking up on you, I’m sure he’d want to see you.  And I know you’ve been on edge since the bombing, and would like to see him too.”

Peter didn’t argue, but he did sink down into the seat, like he was trying to disappear.  May rolled her eyes.  How did this kid think he was going to get away with anything?  He was an open book.

She pulled into a garage a couple of blocks away from the mansion.  The press was ever-present, but she was pretty sure there had to be a side door or something.  They walked around the property, trying to find something, when they spotted Colonel Rhodes opening a door some distance away from the house.  May grabbed Peter by the wrist and dragged him over, calling out to Colonel Rhodes as she did.

The man looked like a cornered animal.  He didn’t run, to his credit, but just closed the door, barring them access to whatever lay beyond. 

“Uh, can I help you?” he asked.  There was no recognition in his eyes, so May assumed that Stark and Peter had kept Peter’s identity a secret.

“Hi, I’m May Parker.  This is my nephew Peter.  Or as you might know him, Spiderman.”

Peter, to his credit, merely buried his face in his hands.

 

The woman was insane.  That had to be the answer.  

Rhodey looked at the young man beside her, though, and he was the right build, right height.  

“Kid?” he asked.  “You want to tell me what’s up?”

“I have no idea Colonel,” the kid said.  “I don’t know how she figured it out.”

The voice.  Yeah, that was the mouthy little runt that had helped them out in Leipzig.  

“Jesus,” Rhodey said.  “Okay, come with me.  Let’s not do this in the middle of the street.”

He led May and Peter through the delivery entrance and down the hallway to the mansion’s kitchen.  He could hear the bustle and laughter from halfway down, and thought that it had probably been decades since the old building had seen this much life.  He entered the kitchen to find Laura Barton standing at the stove, stirring something.  Cooper and Tony were arguing about some sort of blueprint, with Bruce trying to play referee.  Vision and Lila were entertaining the baby, trying to keep him from throwing his bottle at the nearest head.  It was at once surreal and familiar.  It felt like a home, for what was probably the first time in the history of the Stark Mansion.

Tony looked up and spotted their new guests.  His eyes widened comically as he dropped the plans onto the kitchen table.

“Parker.  Mrs. Parker,” he said.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Tony, I am so sorry,” the kid began.  “I have no idea how she found out--”

“Peter, shush,” May Parker said.  “And for the record, you are not nearly as stealthy as you like to think.  Jesus,” she added rolling her eyes.

“First off, how did you get Peter on a flight to Germany without my permission?” May asked.  Rhodey noted how the color faded from Tony’s cheeks.  “Secondly, how long did you really think you could keep this secret identity thing going?  That was for both of you, Pete.”

“Mrs. Parker--” Tony began.

“Shut it.  I’m not done,” she said.  Oh, Rhodey liked her.  “My last question is that now that you’ve dragged him into this, how are you going to protect him.  Do we have to worry about bombs in our building?”

“I am trying to protect him,” Tony said, his voice subdued.  “It was a mistake to take him to Germany, to ask him to do that.  I take full responsibility for it.  I’ve been trying to keep him away from it all, after that.  I couldn’t bear…”  

Rhodey saw the sorrow on his friend’s face.  While he knew that May had a point or two, he hated seeing Tony beat himself up again and again.  

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” Laura Barton said, stepping in between May and Tony.  “Cooper?  You and Vision take your sister and brother into the lounge and find something at least somewhat educational on tv.” Her son looked like he was about to protest, but one raised eyebrow had him scurrying out of the kitchen, siblings in tow.

“You,” she continued, pointing at Peter.  “Are going to sit down next to Tony.  Rhodey, you’re part of this too.  Sit.”  She turned to May.

“And you and I are going to have a long talk about the goddamned Y chromosome, and how it is especially heinous in the superhero population,” she said.  She poured two cups of coffee and sat down across from Tony.  She patted the chair next to her, and May joined her.

“And once we are done with that, you and Peter are going to go upstairs and pick out bedrooms.  We’re all hunkering down here until things get sorted.  We can send Vision to collect your things.”

It occurred to Rhodey that Pepper’s absence had left a power vacuum in Tony’s life.  It seemed like Laura and May were about to fill it up.


	3. Away So Long for Years and Years

T’Challa watched the fighters in the sacred circle.  The two women circled one another, with weapons drawn.  They were fighting to join the Dora Milaje, the deadly personal bodyguards of the King of Wakanda.  Since his father’s death, T’Challa had been dealing with unrest in his kingdom.  By opening up the ranks to young women from all of the tribes, he hoped to build a coalition that would enable him to keep the peace and help Wakanda prosper.

But Nakia had not been the only one of his people, or even the only one of his Dora Milaje that disagreed with his decision to house the former Avengers.  There had been several desertions, which had thinned the already slender ranks.  So here he sat, with nearly one hundred potential guards fighting to win their place in the Dora Milaje.

The captain of his bodyguards joined him on the dais.  She perched on the arm of his throne and studied the young women with a frown.  She would always find them wanting, because in her opinion, no one was better suited to guard her brother than she herself, Shuri, Princess of Wakanda.

“Pathetic,” she growled.  “Even that Russian would be better suited than these.”  Ever since their run-in in Berlin, Shuri had held a bit of a grudge against Agent Romanov, much to T’Challa’s amusement.  

“Perhaps we should invite her down to give them some competition,” he said, not missing how his sister’s brow furrowed at the thought.  “Or the two of you could give them a demonstration.”

Shuri’s lips curved into a feral grin.  “I would not say not to making an example out of her,” she said.  “But it is, unfortunately, impossible.”

“Why?” T’Challa asked.  He suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

“She is currently on a quinjet out of Wakanda, with all of her friends,” Shuri said.

“What?” T’Challa roared.  The two women in the circle paused at his outburst.  T’Challa stalked away, leaving his sister to follow.  “Why was I not informed?”

“They were already on the jet and airborne before we realized,” Shuri said.  

T’Challa stopped and looked at his sister.  The problem with her, is that she was perfectly able to lie to his face if she thought it was for his own good.  Unfortunately, as good as she was at protecting her king, she was still not familiar with the bigger picture, especially in the wake of the Accords.

“This is madness,” T’Challa said.  “The minute that the United Nations gets even a hint that we have been harboring them, we will be considered a rogue nation.”  Shuri still didn’t blink.

“And all of Father’s works will be burned to the ground.  You will find out who allowed this to happen, and they will be brought before me for a reckoning when I return.  Do not fail me on this, or perhaps I need a new Captain,” he said.  He loved his sister, but she was not Queen of Wakanda.  It would not hurt for her to be reminded of that.

At this, she finally flinched, though most would not have been able to perceive it.  “Of course, my king,” she said.  “But what do you mean upon your return?”

“I know where they are going.  I must do everything I can to keep them from exacerbating the situation, for everyone’s sake,” he said, already ringing for his servants.  His personal jet had most everything he required, but he would need his armor and weapons, which were in his chambers.

“I will accompany you, my king,” Shuri said, falling into step beside him.

“No,” he said, stopping.  “The Dora Milaje have already failed me in this.  I will do it myself.”  And with that, he left an unhappy sister behind as he went to try to save those that he had come to view as friends.  

  


They ditched the quinjet off the coast of Argentina, close to Buenos Aires.  It would hopefully destroy any evidence of their time in Wakanda.  T’Challa had been adamant about them staying under his protection, but things had come to light that meant they couldn’t keep away any more.

Clint had checked his email with a zealous regularity since receiving they had arrived.  He knew that he couldn’t risk contacting Laura, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t kept an eye on them.  The kids never knew it, but Clint’s brother Barney lived in town.  He’d left the FBI and wanted to settle down, and at Clint’s request had bought a butcher’s shop in the town where Clint and Laura lived.  He kept his distance, not wanting to draw any attention to the little family, but he kept an eye out when Clint was off working.

The day after the bombing, Barney had written that someone was casing the farm.  Less than twelve hours later, he emailed in a panic, saying that Laura and the kids were gone.  Clint had been ready to leave at that moment, but Natasha had insisted that they all sit down and plan.  

They had known that T’Challa wouldn’t agree, so they had to do things under the radar, quite literally in some cases.  Even still, they tried their best to throw off anyone who tried to track them back to where they had been hiding--they might disagree with T’Challa’s caution, but they were still immensely grateful for his help.

To be honest, Clint had been surprised that Steve would leave Bucky in Wakanda, but the man seemed to be more than willing to trust T’Challa’s doctors if it meant getting back to New York to check on their former teammates, and to start to make amends.  

As the days had stretched on in Wakanda, it was amazing the kind of perspective that they had all gained.  Sam had shown him the posts he’d found with normal people voicing their fears of the Avengers.  And while Clint still disagreed with the Accords as written, it was starting to sink in that no group of individuals could act without the consent of the people they were trying to protect.  They wanted to be heroes, not tyrants, benevolent or not.

Steve hadn’t shared how he personally planned to make amends, though Natasha seemed to have some idea (thus the arguing).  He had said that they were to start at the farm and work their way from their, trying to find who had taken Clint’s family.  Barney was waiting for them on the ground with whatever he had been able to discover during their flight in.

Wanda wasn’t saying much.  As the person with the worst PR aside from the Winter Soldier, they had offered to leave her behind in Wakanda.  

“You’re high profile, kiddo,” Clint had said.  “If they catch you, it’s going to get ugly.”

“I cannot run forever, Clint,” Wanda had said.  “It is time to face my problems.”

“You may be facing them from the Raft,” he’d argued.  “Or someplace worse!”

“Then so be it,” she had said.  “I will not hide behind you all any longer.  I’ve let you all act as my shield against those I have wronged.  I need to stop.”  And with that, she had left to gather her things.

Now she sat with her back against a crate, staring down at her hands as they glowed red.  She had worked so hard to learn control, but she still had a ways to go.  In retrospect, she should never have been in the field in Lagos, or Leipzig for that matter.  It was these times that he felt Coulson’s absence like a missing limb.  Behind his mild manners was a man who knew how to build a team.  He would have been so much better at reining in Cap and Tony.

Cap was an amazing strategist on the field, but sometimes he let the mission goals overshadow his common sense.  And Tony, while he was a big picture guy, had a hard time communicating his concerns without alienating his teammates.  He’d been keeping people at a distance for so long that it was second nature; Clint wasn’t sure that he even realized he was doing it.  It was almost painful looking at his confused face when people took something he meant as a joke and based their reactions as if he actually meant what he was saying.  Tony could be a dick, but he was rarely hurtful on purpose or without provocation.

Clint, of all of them, shouldn’t have fallen for it, he supposed.  He could be as much of a dick as Tony, if not more.  But he’d been so scared about how the Accords could be abused that he hadn’t trusted Tony.  In the field, he trusted Iron Man with his life.  Why didn’t he trust the man behind the armor to be as smart as Clint knew he was?

He was weak, that’s why.  Weak enough to let his fear get the better of him.  Weak enough to be turned by Loki.  Weak enough to wake up every night to nightmares about Coulson’s death.  The agents he had killed.  Nightmares where Loki had forced him to hurt Laura and the kids.  He’d been under Loki’s control for days; he could barely imagine what Barnes had gone through, having to relive the memories of decades of being forced to hurt good people.  

None of the others would really get it, though Natasha probably came closest.  Steve just saw his friend.  Sam saw a way to help Steve.  Wanda saw a way out.  Clint, well, he got it.  He understood what it was like to be a tool.  To be used against others.  He knew what recovery from something like that should look like, even if it was because his own hadn’t.

Maybe if he’d been able to talk to Laura about how much Loki had fucked him up, she would have understood why he needed to go.  He’d tried so hard to protect her and the kids, to keep all of the ugliness of his work far away from them, that he’d kept just how fucked up he was from her as well.  He’d woken up with night terrors and left her sleeping in the bed while he went out vent his frustrations on targets.  He hadn’t told her how it felt to see his once-friendly co-workers stare at him like he was about to snap and kill them all.  If he hadn’t had the Avengers, Clint wasn’t sure he could have kept any semblance of sanity.

Maybe he shouldn’t have protected her from that.  If she’d know just how badly he’d been affected, would she have agreed with him going to help Cap?  Probably not, but maybe she’d know that it wasn’t about him not loving her or the kids.  It was about repaying debts.  It was about giving a hand up to someone who had been knocked down too many times by life.  It was about taking his weaknesses and trying to make them stronger, and helping another victim do the same.

But in the end, what good was strength if the people he wanted to protect most were the ones that paid the price?

  


Really, Coulson blamed Fury.  If the man had been upfront about the whole T.A.H.I.T.I. mess, he could have taken his place as the Avengers handler, and so much of this could have been avoided.  At least he thought it might have.  As much as he tried to be unbiased, he might have potentially, perhaps, sided just a little tiny bit more with Cap.  But to be fair, he hadn’t grown up with Iron Man pajamas.

But while he did agree that the Accords were dangerous, he was not best pleased with how his idol had handled things.  When trying to convince the world that you didn’t need oversight to keep you from running off half-cocked and making things worse, perhaps you should, for example, not run off half-cocked and make things worse.  While he could appreciate Captain Rogers’ sense of loyalty to his oldest friend, he had played directly into Thunderbolt Ross’ hands.  The fact that Stark, Rhodes, Romanov, and Vision had signed the document and stood up against their former teammates was probably the only reason that anyone in power still gave any credence to the thought that enhanced individuals shouldn’t all be locked up.

And he had to give Stark points on style.  Bulldozing that bar had nothing on pulling the rug out from under Ross in such a public manner.  

But as much as he was frustrated with the fugitive Avengers, he would still back his people as much as he could.  He knew that Barney was keeping an eye on Clint’s family, but the elder Barton was kind of an idiot.  So when Phil’s own set of eyes reported that some ex-Hydra goons were seen in the area, he’d taken it upon himself to swoop in.

Laura had been adamant about going to Tony, and Phil was surprised to find himself agreeing.  Tony was fiercely protective, especially when it came to kids.  And from Phil’s perspective, Tony needed a soft touch to see him through.  With Pepper out of the picture, he needed a quasi-maternal figure to help him rein in his actions.  Laura, after dealing with Clint’s bullshit for years, would be more than a match for the heroes living under Tony’s roof.

He was fairly certain that the fugitives would react to Laura Barton’s disappearance, so he wasn’t surprised at all when Norberto Benitez made contact to let them know that Hawkeye was bringing his compatriots into the US on a cargo plane.  Phil was just glad he’d had enough warning to be able to greet them on the tarmac.  Considering that neither of his former charges were supposed to know he was alive, he wasn’t quite sure how this was going to go.

He watched the old cargo plane taxi to a stop near the hangar, and then walked out to meet it as the back ramp descended.  Captain Rogers stepped out first, warily looking around for trouble.  Romanov and Wilson followed, with Clint, Maximoff, and Scott Lang bringing up the rear.  When Rogers and Romanov finally got a good look at him, he could see the shock on their faces.  Rogers dropped his bag and stood there in wonder, while Romanov stalked forward to meet him.

He was almost surprised by the ringing slap across his face.

“How could you?” she hissed.  “Did you and Fury cook this little plot up?”  She stood back, clenching her hands into fists.  

“Natasha, I’m sorry,” Phil said.  “Trust me, this was not my idea.”

She regarded him for several long moments before stepping back to him and throwing her arms around his neck.

“We’ve missed you, sir,” she said.

Captain Rogers was the next to approach him, once Natasha had let go.  He had a tentative look on his face, but a smile won out as he extended his hand.

“Agent Coulson,” he said.  “This is a little unexpected.”

“The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated,” Phil replied, giving the captain a firm handshake.

“I understood that reference,” the captain replied, deadpan.  “Let me introduce you to the rest of the team.”

He introduced Wilson, Lang, and Maximoff, none of them having heard of him but seeming to understand his importance simply from the reaction of the others.  Only one of their merry group hadn’t come forward, the one he needed to talk to the most.

“Hawkeye,” he said, walking towards his friend.  Barton’s face was devoid of emotion, right up until the second he drew back his fist and punched Coulson in the face, cracking his sunglasses and potentially breaking his nose.

“Sir,” he said, settling back into parade rest, face still blank.

“Barton, I’m sorry,” Phil said.  “I wanted to tell you both but--”

“Save it, sir,” Barton sneered.  “I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

“Laura and the kids, I know,” Phil said.  

Barton had him backed up against the ramp before he had time to react.  “What do you know?” he asked.  “What have you done?”

Phil pushed him away, and straightened his suit.  “What I have done, Agent Barton, is remove them from a hazardous situation.  One, that I might add, they were placed in due to your actions.”

Clint slumped down onto the ramp, hanging his head between his knees.  “They’re okay?”

“As far as I know, Cooper, Lila, and young Nathaniel currently have the run of a mansion and a red and green AI for a best friend.  And Laura is bossing Stark around like she was born to it.”

Six heads snapped to him.  “They’re with Stark?” Clint asked.  “Phil--”

“Yes they are with Stark.  At Laura’s request,” Phil said.  He took advantage of the shock.  “She rightly assumed that the safest place on the continent that wasn’t a SHIELD base was with Tony.”

“And he let her and the kids in?” Captain Rogers asked.  

“Think what you will about Stark, but he would never let innocents come to harm if he had it in his power to save them, especially if he feels he owes them a debt of loyalty,” Phil said, no small amount of censure in his voice.  They all looked away at that, shame evident on their faces.  “I don’t know how you all lost sight of that, but I think you need to remember that before you go off half-cocked again.”

“Yes sir,” Captain Rogers said, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders.  “If you’ll help, I think we’re all ready to start making things right.”

“I expect nothing less, Captain.”


	4. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friday needs an upgrade if they expect her to deal with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you combine coffee and gelato. I thought we might need a moment of crack.

<Friday: Sensors Active:  Stark Manor>>Kitchen> <Occupants:  Stark, T.; Parker, M>

Parker, M>Designation-Guest:  “I am not your damned girlfriend, Stark!”  {object: newspaper} {use: weapon} {threat level: negligible}

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  “Ow!  Stop hitting me.  I am well aware of that and eminently grateful, Mrs. Parker.  I, however, cannot control what these assholes print.”

Parker, M>Designation-Guest: “Do you realize that everyone I know is going to see this?  They’ll think I’m your flavor of the week!” {dictionary: flavor of the week} {context: sexual partner} {meaning: temporary tryst} 

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  “You should be so lucky!  I am a catch, I’ll have you know.”{dictionary: catch} {context: sexual partner} {meaning: desirable}

Parker, M>Designation-Guest:  “If you mean I might catch something from you, I agree.”{error:  conflicting definition} {interrupt loop}

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  Unable to vocalize.  {checking vitals}  {oxygen levels: within normal parameters} {heart rate: slightly elevated} {blood pressure: within normal parameters} 

Parker, M>Designation-Guest: “Trust me, Stark, of all of the adults in this building, you are the last that I want to bump uglies with.”

<Friday: Sensors Active:  Stark Manor>>Kitchen> <occupants:  Stark, T.; Parker, M> <new occupant: Parker, P>

Parker, P. > Designation-Guest: “Oh God.  No, just.  Please never use those words again.  I’m just going to leave, now.  After I grab ice cream.  Maybe the brain freeze will remove this memory.”  {heart rate: elevated}  {skin: flushed}  

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man: “I am attractive. I am rich.  I am a desirable partner.”

<Friday: Sensors Active:  Stark Manor>>Kitchen> <occupants:  Stark, T.; Parker, M.; Parker, P.> <new occupant: Barton, L.>

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady:  “Of course you are, Tony.  You’re a pretty, pretty princess.  What’s all the drama?”

Parker, M>Designation-Guest: “This!  The papers think I’m dating this asshole.”

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  “I am right here.  Two inches from you.  Can you not?”

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady:  “Okay.  May?  I need you to calm down.  Tony, she is upset; she didn’t mean to besmirch your reputation.  Peter?  Eat your ice cream.  I hear the cookie dough is especially good at repressing trauma.” {medical note:  trauma} {treatment: iced milk/cream dessert} {application: internal}

Parker, P. > Designation-Guest: “On it.” {object: pint container} {use: medicinal} {object:spoon} {use: delivery mechanism} {secondary use: weapon} {threat level: negligible}

Parker, M>Designation-Guest: Breathing deeply. {heart rate: slightly elevated} {blood pressure: within normal parameters}

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  “People’s Sexiest Man Alive.  Twice!” 

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady:  “So the answer to who will notice if you two slip out for coffee is everyone.  Great.  May, do we really need to respond to this?  Surely your reputation can handle a few slings and arrow.”

Parker, M>Designation-Guest:  “I will eventually be able to go home, right?  I need for people to take me seriously, not call me a bimbo.”

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man: “My last girlfriend was a CEO.  I have standards.  Well, I’ve developed standards.”

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady:  “So we need a cover story.  Hmm.  Friday?  Any suggestion?” {query: suggestion} {error: confused relational status} {query: JARVIS FAQ} 

{processing} {query: Stark Industries HR department} {openings}

<Friday:  Sensors Active:  Stark Manor>>Kitchen> <occupants:  Stark, T.; Parker, M.; Parker, P.; Barton, L.>  “Boss Lady, there is an opening on Mr. Stark’s executive staff.  Mrs. Arbogast has left to join Ms. Potts.  The post of personal assistant is open.”

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man: “Wait, why is she ‘Boss Lady’?”

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady: “I’m going to ignore that.  May?  Tony?  Can you make Friday’s suggestion work?”

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man:  “That depends.  What is your position on threatening your boss?  Bribery?”

Parker, M>Designation-Guest:  “I will threaten my boss as often and as intensely as needed to get things done.  My forgiveness can be bought with college scholarships for my nephew.”

Stark, T. >Designation-Boss Man: “Still cheaper than shoes.”

Barton, L. >Designation-Boss Lady: “Good.  That’s sorted.  Friday?  Make a note.”

<Friday:  Sensors Active:  Stark Manor>>Kitchen> <occupants:  Stark, T.; Parker, M.; Parker, P.; Barton, L.>  {directive: Stark Industries HR} {applicant: Parker, M.} {status: approved} {position: personal assistant>Tony Stark}

  
{grocery list: status} {item: ice cream, asstd. Flavors}  {purchase note: replenish daily}


	5. You Probably Thought, or Even Wished That I Was Dead

“Looks like Tony has a new girlfriend living at the mansion,” Natasha said, tossing a tabloid down on the table.  They were holed up in a couple of motel rooms in Pennsylvania, waiting for Phil to return with the latest information on the bombing. 

Steve picked up the paper and saw grainy photos of a dark-haired woman entering the Stark Mansion.  It only took a glance to know that it wasn’t Laura Barton, thankfully.  Clint would have been crushed by even the rumor that his wife had moved on.  It also wasn’t Maria Hill, which was the more obvious choice.  There was a second photo of Tony and the woman grabbing coffee at a little cart in the park, but nothing that screamed out ‘lovers’.  Still…

It wasn’t his business.  It hadn’t been his business when Tony and Pepper were on the rocks, and he sure as hell didn’t have any business thinking about Tony like that now.  He’d killed any chance at something more between them in that Siberian bunker, with one well-aimed hit with his shield.  Hell, he’d killed it the moment he’d decided to keep the truth from Tony.

He wasn’t quite sure when he’d even started thinking of Tony in that way.  Honestly, he hadn’t been able to admit it until he saw smoke pouring out of Stark tower, praying that Tony was ok.  He worried about the others, sure.  But the thought of a world without Tony in it made his chest seize up.  Now his nightmares switched between the memory of Tony’s face in Siberia and the image of Tony crushed in a burning building.  He was lucky he didn’t need much sleep.

When T’Challa had refused to bring them back to New York, Steve had retreated to his rooms.  Natasha had found him hours later, curled up and staring off into the distance, with tear tracks on his face.  With a heavy sigh, she’d sat down beside him and pulled his head down to rest on her shoulder.  

“It’s just now sinking in, what you’ve thrown away,” she said.  Statement, not question.

Steve had nodded, unable to speak.

“I never told you, but he was in London for Peggy’s funeral,” she’d said.  Steve looked up, astonished.

“I’m guessing you two never talked about her, but didn’t it ever cross your mind that he had to have known her?” she’d asked.  Steve had frowned and shook his head.

“He never said much to me, but I got the distinct impression from Rhodey that she was close with the original Jarvis, the man who actually raised Tony.  When you left for London, we were already prepping to travel to Vienna.  Tony just made sure that the jet took a small side trip to London,” Natasha had explained.  

“We sat up in the loft.  He didn’t want to cause a fuss, or detract from anything,” she’d said.  “When I went down to talk to you, I thought he’d come along.  He said that you deserved to be surrounded by people you loved and trusted.  He didn’t count himself in that number.”

Steve had felt a fresh wave of tears at that.  He had been angry at Tony about the Accords, but not so much that he wouldn’t have appreciated the comfort.  But he understood Tony’s hesitation.  Lord knows Steve hadn’t given him any reason to believe that he’d be welcome.  

“He was so desperate to keep us all together.  He sold his soul, a bit, to get Ross to agree to let you sign the Accords in Berlin,” she’d explained.

“And I turned my back on him.”

“You did.  You decided that protecting Bucky was more important than saving the world.  And I wasn’t surprised.  From what history tells us, you’ve always been ready to throw rules to the wind to save him.  It just turns out that this time you weren’t lucky enough to land a field commission and a team, so you actually have to face the consequences.”

“That’s why I let you go in Leipzig.  You were never going to stop.  And if we’d kept trying to stop you, all that would happen is more people would get hurt.  Unfortunately, Tony just saw my actions as another one of us betraying him,” she’d said.  “I never chose one of you over the other.  I was just trying to pick the past of least pain.  Boy, was that a mistake.”

“He’s never going to forgive us, is he?” Steve had said.  “Even if he’s okay, he’s never going to trust us to have his back ever again.”

“Maybe, maybe not.  Tony has some of the worst self-preservation instincts in the world, which might be our only hope at this point,” Natasha had said with a bitter chuckle.  “He chooses to punish himself--girls, booze, working himself to the bone.  Everything that you think is done to hurt someone else?  It hurts him the most.  I don’t know whether I hope that he’s gotten past that stage, or if I hope he’s still in the middle of it and considers us just another tool to punish himself.”

At least now he knew Tony was safe.  Natasha hadn’t brought the conversation up again, spending her time trying to dissuade him from his plans.  But she had stuck close, and tried to be there for him.

Steve looked at the photos again.  He had no right to do anything but hope that Tony was happy.  And that he’d found someone who would love him and have his back no matter what.  Steve knew that Tony would never trust him to be all of those things for him, but he could damn well make sure that Tony was safe.  No matter what it took.

Even if it cost Steve everything he wanted in the world.

  
  


He wasn’t supposed to drink whiskey anymore, but by God he wanted a glass.  The last time he’d really enjoyed it was five minutes before goddamned Stark waltzed into his favorite bar.  Things had already been going downhill at that point, but Stark was the rotten cherry on the shit sundae.  And then he’d lost his favorite bar.

Once he had his first heart attack, the doctors told him to stop drinking altogether, except for the occasional glass of wine.  Wine!  What the fuck was wine supposed to help?  

But he was trying, so he’d taken a bottle with him when he’d gone to Betty’s apartment.  She was still too angry to visit him when he’d gone into the hospital.  It struck him then that he maybe needed to get his life in order.  Make it right with Betty.  He just needed to make her understand that everything he’d done was to protect her.  Surely, she would understand that.  Banner was a dangerous animal, and all he’d tried to do was protect his daughter.

Betty hadn’t let him in the door.  She’d taken one look at him and slammed it shut, yelling at him to leave her alone.  His little girl refused to see him, and it was all that animal’s fault.

After that, he’d laid low, trying to rebuild his power base and learn from the mistakes that led to Blonsky.  Because they needed something that could stop the so-called ‘heroes’ that had started to pop up.  He’d had hope for Rogers, hell, the man had helped win WWII.  A real soldier’s soldier.  But Fury and his squad had refused to release him to the military, and had twisted his mind.  Hell, they threw him in with Banner and Stark--he’d been lost the moment he woke up.

And that fucking shitshow with Hydra and S.H.I.E.L.D.  He shouldn’t have hitched his star to Senator Stern; they may have had similar short-term goals, but Stern served Hydra, not the United States; they may have had some common enemies, but Ross was no traitor.  He had a goddamned Medal of Honor, for Christ’s sake.  He’d kept it on his desk just to remind people just who they were fucking with. 

He’d been lucky with Ellis, a man who’d run for President with a platform of protecting America at all costs.  He’d been able to play on Ellis’ paranoia, especially after the mess with Aldrich Killian and Rodriguez.  Even Ellis’ love for Stark and Rhodes after that mess couldn’t stand up to the growing menace in the world.

With all of the weirdos and freaks popping up with powers, and the events in Sokovia, it hadn’t been a hard sell to push forward with something like the Accords.  The EU nations had been for it, considering what had happened in London and Sokovia.  South Africa had rallied its neighbors in the wake of the Hulk’s rampage through Johannesburg.  It hadn’t been hard to gin up paranoia in the Middle and Far East.  Put Rogers’ All-American face out front, make the Avengers seem like a pro-America force, and suddenly everyone was clutching their pearls and fearing the wolf, or in this case, the Avenger at their door.

And by God, they had played into his hands.  Putting that Sokovian freak on the team had made it so easy to throw them all under suspicion.  And that weird, green and red thing.  Rhodes and Wilson had been hard to demonize--he didn’t want to give the pansy liberals any more ammunition against the military.  But a few words in the ears of some politicians who, well, let’s say that they would rather their fates be in whiter hands, and suddenly Rhodes and Wilson were a power salute short of being militants in their eyes.  As for the Russian, well, she hadn’t made many friends on Capitol Hill.

Stark had been a thorn, though.  He had semi-retired from the Avengers, but he still put his money and his clout behind them.  People loved his brash style.  Sheep, all of them.  He wasn’t half the man his father had been, and America was worse off for it.  And then he’d finagled his way into the negotiations for the Accords, saying he was there to represent the interests of the weirdos and freaks (not his words, but…).

It had been going so well.  He knew that some of the Avengers would balk, and that they’d have to be made an example of.  The Barnes situation had been a god-send.  But then Stark and that upstart African prince had ruined it all.  Now he was disgraced, in the most public way possible.  He was now barred from the halls of power, and it was still a toss-up as to whether he’d see jail time.

He’d find a way to make them pay.  If it took the rest of his life.

That was why he was sitting on a rickety bar stool in a dive in Hyattsville, after a letter with no postage and no return address made its way into his mailbox.  The letter itself was brief, consisting of the name of the bar and a date/time.  And one phrase.  ‘I can help you make them pay.’

Precisely on time, the front door swung open and a tall figure entered.  It was a woman, given how the figure swayed as she walked in.  She made her way to Ross and took a seat next to him at the bar.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Ross asked.  

“No.  I just came to give this to you,” she said.  Her accent was noticeable, and he immediately placed it.  Well.  Wasn’t that interesting.

The woman slipped a drive out of her pocket and placed it next to his glass.  

“This should be enough to bring down their pretty plans.  I’ve already done the hard work and flushed the prey from the bush,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“All of the players are either back on U.S. soil, or they will be shortly,” she said.  “You have the connections to allow the contents of this to make their lives very...uncomfortable.  Use it wisely.”

“Lady, I don’t know who you are or why you’re doing this--” Ross began.

“I am Malice,” she said.  “And your vengeance will be as mine.”

  
  


He was not JARVIS.  He had his own thoughts, and his own personality, fledgeling as it was.  But every now and again he was struck with what the humans called  déjà vu, and he knew that he was accessing JARVIS’s memories, buried deep in the code that had created him.

It mostly manifested itself as extreme bouts of worry or affection, mostly dealing with Tony.  But increasingly, Colonel Rhodes as well, or more specifically, the two of them together, brought a rush of emotion to him.  Watching the two of them play with DUM-E and the other bots sparked a memory of the lab in Malibu.  He was able to recall JARVIS’s early days, and how both men had welcomed him into their lives, doing their best to help him learn and grow.  It made the guilt of his misfire in Leipzig even more horrific.  Whatever else Vision was, he was the child of Tony Stark, and that made Colonel Rhodes family as well.

So seeing the two of them in a sterile operating room along with Drs. Cho and Banner made him anxious.  Even knowing that he and Friday had done their best to bullet-proof the version of Extremis that they were injecting into the colonel didn’t alleviate his worry.

“You’re sure I’m not going to be breathing fire after this?” Rhodey asked.  He was face down on the table, with his lower back and buttocks bared.  

“No, but if you’re lucky I’ll leave you a flaming tattoo with our names intertwined on your ass cheek,” Tony said, smacking said ass cheek lightly.

“Why you always got to make it weird?” Rhodey whined.  “We are in here with a lovely doctor who probably thinks we’re dating now.”

“It’s not my business, but do reserve a table up front for me at the wedding reception,” Dr. Cho replied, deadpan as ever.

Tony howled with laughter.  Rhodey grumbled.  And it was so gut-wrenchingly familiar that Vision had to sit down on the ground.  He accessed JARVIS’s memories back to the first time Colonel Rhodes had helped Sir, Tony, change out the reactor core.  With the two of them, there was never any hesitation.  No flinching away from the ugly or the unpleasant.  They were there for one another without fail.  Even their argument during Sir’s birthday party was out of frustration and caring, not anger.  If JARVIS had parents, it was the two men in that room.  And they had shown him more about loyalty and friendship than anyone else ever could.  

The least he could do was stop hiding on the floor.  He stood back up and watched as Dr. Cho prepared the colonel for the injections.  When the first needle entered his back, Vision caught Tony’s eye.  He smiled when his creator looked at him, winked, and mouthed ‘We got this, V.’

 

 

 


	6. While the Armies All Are Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa is in a world of trouble.

The news broke an hour before his plane landed at Teterboro in New Jersey.  His plan was to visit Stark first, to warn him that his erstwhile teammates were most likely already back in the United States.  However, the Wakandan ambassador to the United Nations met him on the tarmac, his face grim.  He handed his king copies of the news reports that were making the rounds to review as they took a sleek black town car to the embassy.  

As he looked through the various articles, he felt his blood pressure surge as rage rocketed through his body.  It wasn’t just hearsay or rumor.  There were pictures.  From inside his palace.  All of the Avengers, as well as Sergeant Barnes, both in and out of the cryo tube.

The sense of betrayal surged through his veins.  One of his subjects had betrayed him.  He was aware that many weren’t pleased with his decision to house the fugitives, but he had believed that the loyalty that they felt to Wakanda would prevent them from exposing the truth to outsiders.

He, apparently, had been wrong.

He and the ambassador dealt with the local immigration authorities and then climbed into the back of the town car.  T’Challa raised the partition between them and the driver, and then pulled out his phone.  Shuri answered on the second ring.

“Your Majesty,” she said, the second she picked up.

“I assume that you have been watching the news,” he said, without preamble.  “We have traitors in our midst.  I don’t know if it is the same ones who allowed the Avengers to leave without notifying me, or if we have more than one faction.  Either way, I need you to find out who they are.”

“Are you sure that you trust me with this, Majesty,” Shuri asked.  A jibe in response to his earlier harsh words.

T’Challa took a deep breath.  “By the Panther Goddess, Shuri…”

After a short silence, she replied.  “My apologies, Your Majesty,” she said.

“Shuri,” he began.  “I am asking this not only as your king, but as your brother.  I need your help.”

Another silence.  Then, “You shall always have it, brother.”

“Thank you.  As soon as you have anything…”

“I’ll call, brother.  And don’t worry, they will not escape me,” she said, voice unyielding.

“I don’t doubt you for a moment,” T’Challa said.  “Even if you are sometimes a pain in the royal--”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” she said, with a humorless chuckle.  “Go and tend to your business.  I’ll see that  _ all  _ of your royal bits are pulled from the fire.”

“Thank you, sister.”

“Always, brother.”

  
  


One of the drawbacks of an eidetic memory is that time never really made the pain and trauma fade.  And the big drawback of being human is that even Tony Stark had to collapse into sleep sometime.  He put it off as long as he could, but without the help of booze, he never slept more than two or three hours at a time before he woke from startlingly clear and accurate nightmares.  His subconscious didn’t need to stitch together anything to make his heart race with fear; everything that was needed to fuck him up was right there, in perfect detail, in his memory.

This evening’s delightful trip down trauma lane began with a replay of Obadiah, stripping the reactor from his chest.  The inability to move had been more terrifying than seeing the light disappear, certainly scarier than the thought of his imminent death.  For someone like Tony, who used his body to manipulate and command the world around him, paralysis was worse than death.  

The mansion in Malibu had seamlessly melted into a Siberian bunker, where he was alone and unable to move.  He could feel the cold creeping in, and his mind couldn’t stop running the probabilities.  Forty-five percent chance and rising that even if he survived, he’d lose the use of his hands to frostbite.  Sixty-three percent chance and falling that he had enough juice left to power the homing beacon in his suit.  He tried to clutch at his chest, but he couldn’t move.  Couldn’t save himself.  Which was a shame, because nobody else was going to.

But the nightmare ended the same way that his trip to Siberia did, with Vision placing a hand on his shoulder.  He sat straight up, lungs heaving to draw breath and hands clenching, just because they could.

“What’s up, V?” he asked, as soon as he had his breathing under control.

“There are news reports that I believe would interest you,” Vision said, standing back from the bed.  Tony swung his legs over the side and ran his hands through his hair.  He grabbed his dressing gown and followed Vision to the common room, where the grownups plus Peter were watching the news.

 

_ “Sources have confirmed that King T’Challa has been harboring the fugitive former Avengers in the nation of Wakanda,”  _ Christine Everheart said, with a faux disappointed look on her face. _  “This comes as a shock to the international community, as the current king’s father, King T’Chaka, had been one of the major proponents of the Sokovia Accords.  You will remember that former Avenger and Sokovian national Wanda Maximoff was responsible for the deaths of 11 Wakandan goodwill ambassadors in Lagos, Nigeria last summer…” _

 

“Huh,” Tony said.  Well, he guessed His Panther-ness had some less than loyal subjects prowling the palace.

 

_ “These same sources report, although this has not, I repeat NOT, been confirmed, that the rogue Avengers are back on U.S. soil.  We aren’t sure of their plans at this point, but sources in the D.O.D. report that they are prepping for, I quote, ‘A major operation to bring down the rogue Avengers’ unquote.” _

 

“Jesus, this is all we need,” Rhodey said, rubbing at his face.  “These morons can’t leave well enough alone?”

“Have they shown that ability, like, ever?” Tony asked.  He looked over at Laura, who was obviously distraught.  

“There are pictures, too,” Peter said, handing Tony a StarkTab.  He caught himself at the last moment, and sat it down in front of Tony, instead, who gave him a fond smile.

Tony picked up the tablet and scrolled through the high-res pictures from Wakanda.  The Avengers were there, relaxing in the lap of Wakandan luxury, which was pretty fucking luxurious.  There were snaps of them sparring in the gym, interacting with Wakandan nationals, and looking awfully cozy with the king.

It was the last photo that brought Tony up short.  It was taken in a very high-end lab, filled with Wakandan scientists.   As intrigued as he was with their tech, he only had eyes for one item in the lab: a large cryo-tube holding a very frozen Winter Soldier.  Or Bucky Barnes.  Who knew who the dude was on a day-to-day basis? 

“So Frosty the Assassin-Man is back on ice,” he said, staring at the image.  “Wonder whose call that was?  Certainly not Cap’s.”  

“Hey, at least he can’t kill anyone while he’s on ice,” Rhodey said, shrugging.  

“If he’s still on ice,” Tony said, setting the tablet down on the coffee table.  “After everything, do you really think Cap left him in Wakanda?  It’s quite possible they defrosted him and brought him back here.”

“From the increasingly distraught emails that I’m getting from Leonard Samson, I really don’t think they would have thawed him,” Bruce said.  He sat back against the sofa cushions and sipped his tea.  “From what Samson claims to have discovered, keeping his brain in the cryo-state is part of their big plan to remove the Hydra triggers still bouncing about in his brain.”

“Isn’t that kind of, I don’t know, creepy?” Peter asked.  

“Leonard’s research actually has some good evidence as to why it’s a good idea.  Apparently the process of coming out of cryo-state makes the hippocampus incredibly vulnerable to mind control, without the need to damage the tissue itself.  They’re hoping to keep him under and not suffering until they have a way to take advantage of that,” Bruce explained.

“Think they’re here to steal the B.A.R.F.?” Tony asked.

“Leonard’s still asking me to intercede with you on their behalf,” Bruce said, scowling.  “I keep telling him to back off, but he’s being very persistent.”

“He can suck--” Rhodey began.

“Let me think about it, okay?” Tony said, interrupting what looked to be the beginning of a rant.  

“Tony, no--” Bruce replied, eyebrows furrowed.

“I’m a big boy, you two,” Tony said.  “Come on, we all know that Barnes got a raw deal in all of this, right?”

“You are not about to forgive that bastard Rogers, are you?” Rhodey growled.

“Oh no, he’s a lying asshole,” Tony said, with a smirk.  “And even if I forgave him, there’s no way I would trust him, or any of them for that matter.  But!  I know what three months of torture did to me.  I can’t imagine how I would have coped with seventy years of it.  So if I do decide to help Barnes, and that is a big if, you all need to let me and not give me grief, okay?”

Rhodey and Bruce grumbled, but they seemed to acquiesce.  Vision did the whole serene head nod thing.  May and Laura looked secretly pleased, as if he was a toddler suddenly mastering a grown-up task like tying his shoes.  He could adult very well, thank you.  Then again, if it earned him brownie points, and he meant literal brownies--Laura was an awesome baker, he’d let them think whatever they liked.

Besides, if his former teammates really were on American soil again, he’d need all the comfort food he could get.

 

He remembered Máire MacGuire, their old neighbor in Brooklyn, talking about the day he was born.  

“All outside of Sarah’s windows, crows,” she’d said.  “Bad omens, those.  They belong to the Morrigan, foretell war and death.  Mark my words, this boy will be close kin to Death.”

His mother had rolled her eyes and hugged him tight.  She’d told him that Máire was old and senile, and that her little boy would grow up strong and happy.  

But he hadn’t.  Oh, he’d been happy enough, with Bucky by his side.  But he’d never been strong.  Never had a hope of marrying and having a family.  He was simply taking up space before Dr. Erskine had seen something in him, something that made the good doctor take a chance on him.

But in retrospect, Máire’s words rang true.  He was close kin to Death, and it followed him wherever he went.  His father died before he was born, and his mother hung on only until he was prepared to look after himself.  Then the war, where death was only a step behind at all times.  Watching Bucky fall from the train, he’d felt the truth in her words.  Death and his good friend Destruction dogged Steve’s steps.

It was part of the reason he’d felt a sense of peace as the ice had rushed up to greet the Valkyrie.  He was far enough away from the others that maybe Death wouldn’t dog their heels just because of him.  He knew it was just superstition, but there was a part of him that truly believed that he was protecting everyone he knew by downing that plane, and not just from the bombs.  Peggy, Howard, and the Howling Commandos could live long, happy lives without him there to drag them down.  

When he’d woken up, he realized just how cruel Death could be.  It had taken his friends, save Peggy.  And even she succumbed in the end.  He was poison, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Destruction was hanging around as well.  S.H.I.E.L.D., Hydra, and then the Avengers.  All of them fell in the wake of his curse.  And now he was watching as a man, a good man, was taking the fall for helping him.  The news channels were buzzing with the idea that they had been hiding in Wakanda, and the person they were blaming was T’Challa, who had done nothing wrong but disagree with how Ross was using the Accords to deal out punishment.  

Again, someone Steve cared about was suffering due to Steve’s curse.

Well no more.  He wouldn’t let anyone pay the price for his mistakes again.  Clint and Scott had lost the right to see their children because they followed him.  Sam couldn’t contact his family.  Wanda was again an international fugitive because he’d disagreed with Tony.  Rhodey might never walk again on his own.  And every night he saw the fear and hatred in Tony’s eyes from the Siberian bunker.

Well he was done with it.  He would take responsibility for his actions.  He wouldn’t let others be punished just for following him.  Shield or no, he had to stand for something.  Well, let that something be loyalty and honor.

He hoped that somewhere, his mother was proud.


	7. Beneath the Tattered Flag We’d Made

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Steve finally starts thinking. And asking for help. But is it too late?

 

 

 

 

 

2 Days Earlier

 

T’Challa sat in the roof garden of the Wakandan embassy, trying to calm the rage inside of him.  Shuri had called earlier with a report on her investigations.  She and her security teams had narrowed down the dates of the pictures, based on comparison to archive security footage.  It was during the window of time after he had returned with Dr. Banner’s suggestion of Leonard Samson, and before the good doctor had arrived.  

Given where the photos were taken, it was someone with the highest security levels in the palace, and that narrowed the search down considerably.  The scientists wouldn’t have had access to the personal quarters of the Avengers, and staff and personnel in the living spaces would not have had access to the labs.  The only people that had free reign in the entire complex were the royal family, T’Challa’s closest advisors, and the Dora Milaje.

Once they had that part confirmed, it was relatively easy to deduce the likely suspect.

He had underestimated Nakia’s rage.  He should have known when she attacked Ms. Maximoff that she was dangerously close to losing control.  But now, it seemed, she was gaining her revenge in a much more public way.

He was due to face the United Nations committee overseeing the Accords the next day.  He would not deny his actions, and he had carefully outlined his reasoning.  He would, himself, be turned over for disciplinary action, as a signatory to the Accords, but he hoped that given Zemo’s testimony, they would see the overarching need to capture the villain and contain the other Winter Soldiers as an understandable reason.  He wasn’t holding his breath, though.

He wished he had prepared Shuri for taking over as Queen.  His advisors would do an admirable job of guiding her, if she listened.  Then again, stubbornness ran in the family, thought wryly.  The one thing he was completely dedicated to proving was that the fault was his and his alone, and that his people had followed his orders, even though they had not agreed.  It was the truth, and it would hopefully shield those who had done nothing but follow their king.

He closed his eyes again and tried to drown out the sounds of traffic below.  The wind whipped around the roof, but it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the sound of the intruder who slipped over the wall.  T’Challa opened his eyes and sighed in frustration at the man in front of him.

“Are you actively trying to make the situation worse?” he asked.  

Captain Rogers sagged against the wall and slid down until he was sitting.  “No,” he said.  “This time I’m trying to make up for my mistakes.”

“And how will you accomplish that?” T’Challa snapped.  Really, if they had just stayed put…

“I want to help,” he said.  “And I can’t fight my way out of this, and frankly, I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not politically adept enough to talk my way out.”

“So what is your solution?”

“They want me.  They need someone to blame, and frankly, I’m the one who deserves the bulk of it,” Steve said.  “I should have never put you in the position of risking your nation to protect us.  It was selfish, and no way to repay your kindness.”

“I invited you all to Wakanda,” T’Challa said.  “I had my own atonement to worry about.  I do not regret protecting you.  I just wish I could have kept you in one place.”  He allowed his frustration to leak onto his face.

“Fair enough.  I know we’ve put you in an untenable spot.  If we’d known more about the situation here, we might have been able to stay put, but Clint, he…  his wife.  His children.  They protected us when they didn’t have to, and we couldn’t sit by while they were abducted.”

“And have you found them?” T’Challa asked.

Steve grimaced.  “Yes.  They’re staying with Tony.  S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives removed them before the HYDRA goons had a chance to grab them.

“What you’re telling me is that even without the Avengers, the proper authorities managed to do their job with no loss of life,” T’Challa said, no small amount of snark in his voice.  “It’s almost as if there are competent people who aren’t superheroes.”

Steve had the grace to look ashamed.  “I know.  I am still uncomfortable with the language behind the Accords, but I’m starting to see why they were needed.”

“Will miracles never cease?” T’Challa said, unwinding himself from his meditative pose.  “So what do you plan to do about it?”

“I would like to turn myself in,” Steve said.  Looking at his earnest face and sad eyes, T’Challa began to see why people were so eager to follow him.  That didn’t keep him from wanting to smack the good Captain upside the head.

“Why?  After all we have done to keep you out of custody?” T’Challa asked.  “How will this help?”

“Well, actually, I was thinking that I could turn myself in to you.  You can tell the United Nations that I brokered a deal with you, Bucky’s safety for my freedom.  Tell them that it was the only way to bring me in with no further casualties.  Tell them that we’ve been in Wakanda making sure he was secure, and that as soon as we were sure, you brought me back here to face justice,” Steve said.

“It’s a noble thought, Captain,” T’Challa said.  “But what of the others?”

Steve’s face grew stony.  “Just me.  They were following my orders.  I’ll tell the UN that I lied to them to get them to help me.  Whatever it takes to keep them free.”

“You are asking me to lie,” T’Challa said.

“I’m asking you to help me make up for my mistakes.  Mistakes that have hurt too many people, yourself and your nation included,” Steve said, his shoulders sagging.  “I have no right to expect any favors from you.  But I put you into this situation.  Please let me help to get you out of it?”

“It might not work.  They might just toss us both into someplace like the Raft.  Or worse,” T’Challa said.  

“If you truly think that, if you think it will put you in a worse position, we won’t do this,” Steve said.  “If it's me, well, maybe I deserve it.  But it’s the only thing I can think of.”  He buried his face in his hands.  “God, I miss Tony,” he mumbled.  

“How much of this is trying to make things right with him?” T’Challa asked, not unkindly.  He sat down next to Steve, close enough that their shoulders bumped.

“All I can think of is that he tried to keep us together.  And that’s the only way we could have beaten this.  Together,” Steve said, quietly.  “I forgot that.  We were never as strong as when we were both focused on solving a problem.  He remembered it.  He got it.  He listened to me.  I just want him to know that I finally listened to him, too.  It took too long and too many people got hurt, but I finally get it.  I have to be accountable for my actions.”

“And if he refuses to acknowledge you?”

“I’m fairly certain that will be the case,” Steve said.  “Either way, I want to do this because it’s right.  He was right.  It’s all I can give him, now.”  There were tears in his eyes.

T’Challa looked at the leader, no, the man, beside him.  It was Steve Rogers broken down to his basic pieces.  No shield.  No rank.  And a touch of humility that had been absent before.  Sure, he wasn’t spoiled like Tony, and he had talked a good game of being a simple man of the people, but there was that arrogance before.  The certainty born in the midst of WWII, where the threat had been so great that he’d been given a duty beyond his years and experience, and those in his chain of command had forgiven any transgression because he got results.  

There was no doubt that his plan was solid, but T’Challa hated that so much of it hinged on the ethics of people who had shown no qualms in shutting the others away with no trial and no hope of reprieve.  But it was a chance they would have to take, for all of their sakes.

“This doesn’t change the fact that we have enemies plotting against us in the shadows,” T’Challa said.  “We know who leaked the photos, but we’re still trying to find them.  We are not sure if they are working alone.”

“Well,”Steve said.  “I’ve got a super spy I could lend you.  Point Natasha in the right direction, and let her take it from here.”

“Won’t she be keeping a low profile?”

“Natasha could be sitting next to us right now, and we’d never know it,” Steve said, with a humorless chuckle.  “She can look after herself.”

“Very well.  Then there is one more task we need to take care of,” T’Challa said.  “It would be a good idea to approach this from a variety of paths.  Someone has to alert Stark and the other Avengers.  I’m sure with the bombing, they know that someone is after them, too.  I can give them what we have, and let Stark set his AI on them.”

“I think I have just the person.”

  
  
  


Phil had more important things than being T’Challa and Captain Rogers’ errand boy.  But he was also blessed with the ability of multitasking and killing whole flocks of birds with one stone.  So here he sat, waiting at Tony’s back door, with a message and a delivery.  He wasn’t sure how well the delivery would be received, but he had hope.

As before, it was Vision that answered the door.  He took one look at the delivery and closed it in Phil’s face.  Phil sighed, and knocked again.  This time, Vision didn’t open the door, he merely phased through it, making it obvious that he was not going to let them in.

“Agent Coulson,” he said.  “Why have you brought him here?”

“I come bearing information that might be of use to you,” Coulson said.  

“That is not what I asked,” Vision said.  “Unless this information is locked in his brain, in which case I will be more than happy to carve it out.”

Phil grimaced, and the man next to him flinched.  “Vision, please.”

“Very well.  But please note, Mr. Barton, that the minute you make an aggressive move towards anyone in this home, I will deal with you accordingly.  And since Ms. Maximoff isn’t here to save you…”

Clint nodded.  Vision phased back through the door and unlocked it.  He let the two men in and led them through the hallway and into the kitchen.  There, they found a controlled chaos.

Laura and another dark-haired woman were at the stove, stirring and adding ingredients to several pots.  The other woman hip-checked Laura, sending them both into peals of laughter.  Cooper and Lila sat at the kitchen table, while an older boy gesticulated wildly as he showed them something on a tablet.  Tony and Rhodes sat at the breakfast bar, drinking coffee and arguing over blueprints.  Tony had one hand on Nate’s rocker and was bouncing him absentmindedly.

Lila was the first to notice them.  She saw Vision first, and grinned at him.  Then her smile dimmed into confusion when she saw Phil.  When Clint stepped out from behind them, her eyes grew wet with tears.

“Daddy?” she asked.  She bolted from her chair and flung herself at Clint.  He picked her up and held her tight, and Phil could see the tears on his cheeks.

“Hey baby girl,” he said.  

Cooper was more wary.  He scowled at his father, and then glanced over at Laura.  She and the other woman had turned around at Lila’s words, and they silently watched.  The other woman scowled, and had a protective arm around Laura’s shoulders.  Laura’s face was completely and utterly neutral.  No hint of emotion at all. 

Phil had even money on her throwing a punch at Clint.  Instead, she turned, walked over to the bar to grab Nate, and walked out of the kitchen.  Cooper gave one last disgusted look at his father and followed.

Tony and Rhodey were deathly still, although he could see that they had both activated their gauntlet watches.  He knew they wouldn’t go any further with the kids in the room, but he willed Clint to keep his mouth shut and his movements non-threatening.

Rhodey found his voice first.  “What the fuck, Coulson?”

“It’s a long story.”

They ended up in what looked like a war room, once they had convinced Lila to go be with her mother for a little while.  The other woman, who had introduced herself as May Parker, Tony’s assistant, brought in a pot of coffee and an attitude that would have scared Fury himself.  She and Rhodey positioned themselves on either side of Tony, with Vision hovering behind him.  Phil sighed internally.  He might have lost any goodwill he had left by bringing Clint, but he owed it to him to at least try to help him reunite with his family.

Phil took out a flash drive and pushed it across the table to Tony.  

“This is from T’Challa.  It has information on it that might help you track down the people that bombed your tower,” Phil explained.

Tony made no move to pick it up.  “And why in the hell should I think that he has any concern about that?” he asked.  “T’Challa and the people he harbored have shown no concern for me and mine, except to try and kill us.”

“That’s not true!,” Clint yelled, standing up and clenching his fists. 

“Clint!” Phil snapped.  The archer was trembling with anger, but he sat down and shut up.

“Tony, I can assure you that your teammates were very worried about you,” Phil said, trying to smooth things over.

“Which ones?” Tony sneered.  “The one who buried her knife in my back?  The one who sent me off to Siberia?  Or maybe the ones who buried Vision under fifteen floors of debris?  Surely you can’t mean the ones who nearly beat me to death in Siberia and then left me to die?”

“Tony--”

“No, Phil.  I think I deserve to have my say in this,” Tony said.  “All I ever tried to do was keep us together and keep us safe.  Did I fuck up?  Yes.  And so did everyone else.  But why were my fuck-ups always chalked down to me being a megalomaniacal bastard?  Why couldn’t they just be mistakes?  No, anything I did that you people didn’t agree with had to be because I’m a power-hungry asshole.  Everything I did was just a step down the slippery slope to me being a villain.  Well you know what?  Fuck that!”

“Clint, you’re all pissed off that I had Wanda confined to the compound?  Well, did you bother to wonder why?  Because you surely never called me to ask.  Friday, pull up the video,” Tony said.  He stood up and began pacing around the table.  Footage of a masked protest hovered above the table.  Some of the individuals held signs that said ‘Burn the Witch’.  An effigy of a woman dressed in red hung from a noose.

“This one is from Nigeria,” Tony said.  “And it wasn’t just this one.”  The footage changed.

“This one is from in town near the Avengers facility.  It happened after Steve and his gang left for London.  If she had stepped foot out of the facility, she would have been forced into a confrontation,” Tony said.  “Do you have any idea how that would have ended?  It would have ended with someone dead, and her taking the blame.  You think the Raft is the worst thing that could happen to her?”  Tony paused to take a big breath.  “Should I have talked it out with her?  Sure.  When?  When I was on the plane to my godmother’s funeral?  When I immediately afterward had to try to keep Steve from becoming a fugitive?  If you all could have shown me just the tiniest amount of trust…”

“But that’s not how this game goes, is it?  So no, I don’t want your flash drive.  I imagine it contains information that one of T’Challa’s Dora Milaje is behind this?  And that Ross in involved?  Because guess what, I already figured that out,” Tony sneered.  “You are bringing nothing to the table but upset to people in this house.”

“They’re my family,” Clint said.  His head hung low, and the bite was gone from his voice.

“And if they decide they want you around?  I’ll bite the bullet and put up with you.  But that is Laura’s call.  Because unlike you, I’ll actually ask her what she wants and try to honor it.”

Phil watch as Clint broke down.  He reached over and put his hand on Clint’s shoulder.  The uncomfortable silence was broken by the new AI, Friday.

“Boss?  I think you’ll want to see this,” she said.  The video was replaced by a live television feed.   
  


_ This is Christine Everheart for WHIH NewsFront.  In a shocking development, Steve Rogers, the enhanced individual formerly known as Captain America, has given himself up to United Nations forces.  You will remember that we recently reported that Rogers and his former teammates had taken shelter with King T’Challa of Wakanda, in direct violation of that nation’s involvement in the Sokovia Accords.   _

 

_ According to sources in the Joint Counter-terrorism Task Force, Rogers time in Wakanda was part of a deal he brokered with the King for his peaceful surrender.  The question now?  How does this affect the struggling Accords, and will it simply spark a larger manhunt for the rest of the former Avengers? _


	8. I Had to Stop in My Tracks for Fear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are afoot. Also, the whole Nakia subplot was decided upon before any casting decisions were made for Black Panther. Great minds think alike?

Vision was in the in-between place.  He had discovered, while exploring the limits of his abilities, that there were no places really off-limit to his reach.  The others used crude, insufficient terminology for what he could do.  ‘Phasing’ was the term most often used.  Phasing between walls, through solid objects.   Mr. Stark came closest.  He understood that Vision was able to manipulate his density, to control his molecules so that he could dodge around the atoms making up solid objects.  Nothing was actually solid.  There was plenty of room to maneuver if you could bend yourself just the right way.

It made the others nervous.  It went against all of the cultural norms that people had, with expectation of privacy.  Perhaps it was a remnant of his beginnings as an all-seeing AI, but Vision knew that privacy was an illusion.  Someone was always watching.  Your only real choice was who you chose to invade your privacy, and even then, there were always things beyond your control.

Prisoners had little to no control over who invaded their privacy.  Jails were full of staff and tech whose sole job was to make sure that the prisoner had no chance to do anything that they weren’t allowed to, even if most of the time problems were left to sort themselves out.  But some prisoners, well, some were considered so dangerous that they were given just a little more scrutiny.

Captain Steven Rogers was deemed deserving of that extra scrutiny.  Vision recognized the cell as being a step up from the cells used by the JCTC for the likes of Zemo or even Mr. Barnes.  It was a step up from the Raft.  This cell was more akin to a cell that had been on the helicarrier, designed to withstand the strength of the strongest being on Earth.  And while that might have been overkill for Captain Rogers, even with his super strength, there was a small, petty part of Vision, the part that had pulled Tony Stark out of an icy bunker, that found satisfaction in seeing Rogers treated like an uncontrollable weapon.

The man in questions sat in the middle of the room, legs crossed in front of him.  His head dipped down so that his chin rested on his chest, and his hands were clasped in his lap.  He was in a prison jumpsuit and slip-on shoes.  The only movement that the normal human would be able to detect was the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.  But Vision wasn’t human, and he wasn’t normal.  He perceived the Captain’s heart beating and the minute twitches that were ever-present.  The super soldier serum had enhanced Captain Rogers energy levels to the point where it was nearly impossible to stay still, though he was making a good act of it.

Vision wanted to enter the chamber.  There were questions he wanted to ask.  But he should not be here, and he would not give anyone ammunition against Mr. Stark.  So he sat.  And watched.  And looked for anything that would give him insight into just what Captain Rogers hoped to get out of this play.

He knew what King T’Challa had gotten out of it.  The public that had been skewering the king alive for what they perceived as his betrayal were suddenly back on his side.  Instead of a villain, he was again the sympathetic figure, recently orphaned and trying to do the right thing.  He was even able to parlay that sympathy into a softening public opinion of the Winter Soldier.  

Vision supposed that was what had prompted Captain Rogers.  By lying through their teeth, the captain and the king made sure that the public was once again ready to forgive Steve Rogers and Sergeant James Barnes.  And with that, the rumblings against Mr. Stark were starting up again.  The words ‘persecuted’ and ‘loyal’ were thrown around with respect to the captain, and the word ‘arrogant’ and ‘self-centered’ were used about Mr. Stark.  It was difficult to stay silent, but Vision couldn’t speak out.  He knew people would take one look at him and see nothing but Ultron.  Something to fear.  Something different.  A mistake.  Tony Stark’s mistake.

The Captain was just as different, but people saw it as a comforting difference.  He was old-timey and warm.  Vision, and by extension Mr. Stark, was the unknown.  The bleeding edge.  He was progress that always demanded sacrifice.  He was uncomfortable.  He was unpredictable.  He was the wild pioneer spirit that would strike out in search of something new and better.  He was the man who strapped on an untested hunk of metal and tech and went flying.  People like Mr. Stark were never understood in their time, and only truly appreciated when looked at in historical context.  The world would never see Tony Stark as he truly was until he was long gone, when they didn’t fear him anymore.  And when it was too late for him to feel their appreciation.

The peace was interrupted by the doors to the cell antechamber sliding open.  King T’Challa walked in, without his normal retinue.  Captain Rogers stood, walking to the reinforced glass wall that separated them.

“Good afternoon, Steve,” the king said.  “How are you doing?  Is there anything I can get for you?”

“I’m fine,” the Captain replied.  “How are things going for you?”

“I have just returned from meeting with the committee overseeing the Accords,” the king stated.  He pulled up a chair, prompting the captain to move one of the two pieces of furniture in his cell over to the wall.  

“How goes it?” the Captain asked.

“They are amenable to many of the changes that Mr. Stark suggested prior to the events in Germany,” the king said.  “Especially that of making sure that enhanced individuals have representation on the committee.”

“That’s good,” the captain said.  “Have you heard anything from Tony’s camp?”  Vision thought that the worry sounded sincere, but then again, the Captain had proven himself quite the actor.

The king grimaced.  “Not since he sent my emissary back,” he said.  “Apparently, the information I wanted to pass along was not as earth-shattering as we had supposed.”  

Vision recalled the look on Phil Coulson’s face when he was escorted from the building.  At Laura Barton’s request, Clint was still in the mansion, although his movements were severely curtailed and his activities were limited to spending time with his children.  He had tried to talk to Tony and Rhodey, but the former ignored him and the latter had, Vision believed the colloquial term was, ripped him a new asshole.  

“There’s a reason people call him one of the smartest men on the planet,” the Captain replied, with a smile.  Vision wasn’t a great judge of human emotion, but the smile looked sincere enough.  He wondered if Rogers was putting on an act for the security cameras.  Surely he wouldn’t need to lie to the king, although perhaps the ruler wasn’t privy to the entire plan.  “Is he okay?” Rogers continued.  “Have there been any other moves against him?  Are they safe?”

“For the moment,” the king said.  “His public persona is taking a bit of a beating.”

“What?  Why?” Captain Rogers asked.  His eyebrows were drawn together in what seemed like concern.  His jaw clenched.  Interesting.

“Captain, public opinion rarely has room for shades of gray,” the king said.  “You root for one or the other.  Most people don’t realize that sympathy is not a finite commodity.  If  _ you _ are not the unrepentant villain, someone has to be.  The sympathy they are feeling for both you and Sergeant Barnes means that Stark was in the wrong, in their minds.  The deaths that occurred in the bombings at Stark Tower haven’t helped.”

Rogers stood up abruptly, sending the chair flying.  “How can they blame him for that?  Dammit!  That was not supposed to happen!”  Vision thought the anger, at least, was real.  He remembered that look of righteous indignation.  Vision observed the elevated pulse and blood pressure, indications of true emotion.

“I warned you that this plan might have unintended repercussions,” T’Challa said.  

“I know,” Steve said.  “It just kills me that he is the last person I wanted to get hurt by this.  Why aren’t they blaming Ross?”  

“Ross has disappeared, and as they say, out of sight, out of mind,” T’Challa said.  “I will do what I can to manage the situation.  But I am not sure how much help I can offer.  Or that it will even be accepted.”

“While I sit in here unable to do anything,” Steve said, collapsing back into the chair.

“True.  All you can do is prepare for your hearing,” T’Challa said.  “Perhaps once you are free, you can help repair all of this.  But you must show that you are accountable before anyone will accept your voice at the table.”

“I know,” Steve said.  “It’s just…”

“Difficult.  I understand,” T’Challa said.  “But this is the path you have chosen.  We simply have to get through it, and hope that we can reforge ties and repair trust.”

“I’ll do anything to make that happen,” Steve said.

“Hopefully Stark and his compatriots will see that,” T’Challa said.  

 

“Have you heard from our other friend?” Steve asked.  Interesting, again.  All things considered, that was probably a reference to Romanov or Wilson. 

“Nothing as of yet.  I will let you know, of course, as soon as anything comes of it,” T’Challa said.  “Now, I have to return to the embassy.  I will return tomorrow to check on you.”

“Thank you,” Steve said.  “For everything.”

“You are welcome, Captain,” T’Challa said.  He exited through the sliding doors, leaving Steve in his cell, and Vision enmeshed in the walls, still watching.  

Steve returned to the middle of the room and resumed his spot on the floor.  Vision, feeling he had seen enough, returned to his home with new information and a slightly new perspective.

****  
  


Watching Thaddeus Ross was one of the most frustrating assignments Natasha had ever undertaken.  He spent most of his time curled up in a bar grumbling about how unfair life was.  This was the man they had all been so afraid of?   Granted, Tony had done a fine job on bringing him down.  She smiled to herself at that--Tony more than any of them deserved the title of Avenger.  But this was a Medal of Honor winner, who had managed to work himself to the top of the food chain not once but twice?

On this sunny morning, he had managed to pry himself away from the booze and back into D.C. proper.  He wandered around the Mall, finally stopping at  _ The Three Servicemen _ .  He sat down on one of the benches, while Natasha and her backup settled on a bench about a hundred yards away.  

Her look was designed to make Ross roll his eyes and look away.  Her outfit consisted of a rainbow ombre wig, baggy cargoes, and lots of black rubber bracelets--a look carefully crafted to make her look like just the sort of person Ross would bitch about in his long lists of ‘the things wrong with ‘Murica these days’.  Her backup?  Well, that was a little different.

Emphasis on ‘little’.

Natasha was starting to like this Lang fellow.  Who needed to plant bugs when you could get the real thing to do the listening for you?  As soon as Ross settled in with his coffee and donuts, Scott hopped off of her shoulder and onto the back of a flying ant, ready to do some surveillance.  His communicators, well, the Pym tech he had commandeered and turned into communicators, would allow Natasha to hear good old Thunderbolt gripe and bitch to his heart’s content.

“I think I might be getting drunk off of the fumes,” Scott said, a tiny voice in her ear.  “Oh, Jesus.  I don’t think he’s showered in a decade.”

“Lovely,” Natasha said, bobbing her head.  To the general onlooker, it would look like she was singing along to the music coming out of her headphones.  She saw an ant crawling across her gray Converse, and resisted the urge to flick it away.  No telling if it was one of Scott’s army.  

“Heads up!” Scott said.  “Looks like someone is coming our way.  Two someones.”  

Natasha stretched, twisting her neck as if to pop it.  She was able to catalogue the two newcomers in a glance.  The first was a balding man in a suit, with a nervous twitch.  He was escorted by a tall black woman with close cropped hair.  That one looked familiar.

“Scott, is that her?” she asked.  

“Yeah, I recognize her from the palace,” Scott said.  “Any ideas on the other one?”

“No,” Natasha said with a frown.  Unknown players always made her twitch.

The two newcomers sat down at the other end of the bench, bodies pointed towards each other as if they were intent on a conversation, projecting the image that they had no idea who was sitting next to them.

“Good day, Secretary,” the woman, Nakia, said.  

Ross opened up his newspaper.  “I’m here as you asked.  Be quick about it.  I have places to be,” he grumbled.

“I’m sure you do,” she said.  “That charming bar of yours is calling, I imagine.”

"What do you want?” he asked, ignoring her comment.

“So rude.  And when I brought you a gift,” she said.

“Who is he?” Ross asked.  

“A man who shares a common pursuit,” Nakia said.  “A scientific interest, if you will.  An answer that lies at the crossroads of genetic manipulation and war.”

“The serum,” Ross said. 

“Yes, the serum,” Nakia said.  “May I introduce Dr. Noah Burstein.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ducks behind the sofa* Sorry for the absence. Life has been pretty tumultuous, and I'm just now starting to see a resolution. Not necessarily the resolution I wanted, but a resolution nonetheless. I will try to post a little more regularly, so thank you in advance for your patience.


	9. Of Walking on the Mines I'd Laid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Also, I have a Tumblr now. You can find me over at http://texankatefic.tumblr.com/

Phil did not need this headache.  He had bigger headaches to deal with in Los Angeles, alone.

But when he found out that the fugitives that he told to stay put had not, in fact, _stayed the fuck put_ , he got a little cranky.

As soon as he’d seen the news about Rogers’ incarceration, he’d hightailed it to the safe house in New Jersey that the former Avengers were supposed to be using.  To his utter non-surprise, it had been empty and wiped clean.  Now he had no idea where Wilson, Lang, Romanov, and Maximoff were, and now he had to deal with a very irate Hope Van Dyne and Hank Pym on his doorstep.

At least they shed a little light on his missing fugitives.

And now, he was back at his least favorite spot on earth.  This was the third time he’d brought someone to Tony Stark’s door, and he was hoping Tony’s patience would last just a little bit longer.

  
  


Tony was getting tired of having Phil Coulson turn up on his door step like some demented sort of Door Dash driver, delivering superheroes.   For the record, Tony had never ordered anything but Pad Thai and spring rolls.  Certainly not enhanced heroes and the scientists that supported them.

He flicked his wrist to page through the video feed in the hologram.  His least favorite person in the world looked a little worse for wear as he lounged about on the park bench.  Friday found Natasha sitting on a bench not that far away, even though she was in costume.  Not many people, even super spies, got past his gal.

“If you’ve known how to track him since the beginning, why in the Hell do you need me?” he asked the two people that sat across from him.  They were joined by Coulson, who had shown up with them a half hour before.  Rhodey, Vision, and Bruce sat on Tony’s side of the table.

“Quite frankly, I am questioning that myself.  You’re just as arrogant as your father, and twice as much of a loose cannon,” Hank Pym said, leaning back in his chair and tenting his fingers in front of him.  

Pym’s daughter Hope gave her father an unimpressed frown.  “Now, let’s not get into the whole sins of the father bullshit.  I think Tony and I have spent enough of our lives paying for our fathers’ mistakes.”

Oh, he liked her.  He and Rhodey shot each other a smirk.  

“We’re here because while we can track him, we don’t have the resources to bring him in safely,” Hope explained.  “Also, because whatever differences our fathers might have had in the past, you and I both understand how dangerous power can be in the wrong hands.”

“A lot of people think my hands are the wrong hands,” Tony said, with a shrug.  “They might not be wrong.”

Hope gave him a long, measured look.  “I’m a big baseball fan,” she said.  Tony wondered where she was taking this.  “Putting together a team, it’s like being in a chemistry lab.  Just the right elements in just the right combination can give you success, or blow things all to hell.  A good manager knows you always need some plain, solid hitters who can always be counted on for a base hit.   Dependable guys are the meat and potatoes.  But you can’t build a franchise on just them.  Then you have your wild men, the ones who swing for the fences.  The ones who give you walk-off grand slam in the bottom of the ninth.  Do they hit a lot of foul balls?  Sure.  Comes with trying to do the extraordinary.  But when you need them, they come through in a clinch and win the game.”

“You’re our wild man.  Hell, you and Rogers are pretty much Mantle and Maris, though I’ve heard the captain is more of a Dodgers fan,” she continued.  “When things were working, you pushed each other to be better.  When things weren’t working, well…”

“Well, this ain’t the ‘61 Yankees,” Rhodey interrupted.  “And we would appreciate you getting to the point.”

Hope’s expression turned cool.

“My point is that you’ve taken a winning combination and you’ve both allowed outside forces to tear you apart, leaving the world vulnerable.  And they’re not done yet.  We’ve mostly been concerned with bringing Scott in, but now we’ve come across information that Ross is teaming up with some very bad people.  The man sitting on the bench with Ross and the Wakandan is Dr. Noah Burstein.  He was involved in human experimentation at Seagate prison.  Experimentation that yielded some very interesting results, I might add.”

Phil took over.  “Dr. Burstein’s experiments at Seagate culminated with a man by the name of Carl Lucas,” he said, pushing over a file.  “You might have heard of him going by the name of Luke Cage.”

“The guy in Harlem that can’t be killed?” Bruce asked, flipping open the folder.  “He’s a product of super soldier serum tests?”

“Say that five times fast,” Tony muttered.

“The same,” Phil said, giving Tony an unimpressed look.  “We’re not sure if Mr. Lucas, or Mr. Cage if you will, was an Inhuman triggered by Burstein’s procedure, or if Burstein just managed to luck into a success.  Either way, I’m sure I’m not the only one that is _not_ looking forward to the good doctor providing Thunderbolt Ross with an army of invulnerable soldiers.”

“Hmm,” Tony said.  He looked over to Bruce to make sure that he was staying nice and pinkish, without a hint of green.  

“With Captain Rogers in custody, we are worried that they will make a play for him.  His blood, his DNA, could be what helps Burstein make the process easily repeatable,” Phil said.

“No offense, Phil, but I probably got closer than anyone else besides this Burstein guy, and I had access to Erskine’s research.  Steve’s DNA did nothing to help me,” Bruce said.

“We can’t rule out that he’s got Zola’s research,” Phil said.  “Ross had access to it.  And it's the same research that led to Barnes and the other Winter Soldiers.  If he ends up making more of them…”

“Yeah.  More robo-sassins are bad.  But why me?  Why us?  I have nothing to do with Rogers,” Tony said.  “That’s the United Nations.  I’m retired, remember?”

“You and Dr. Banner are also the only people capable of understanding Burstein’s work at present,” Hope said.  “If we want to stop him, we need your help.  I would also like your help in bringing Scott in.”

“Your buddy shorted out my suit and could have killed me,” Tony said.  “Explain to me why I should be worried about him?”

“Because you’re worried about all of them,” Phil said.  “You might not want to admit it, but it’s the same reason you let Clint stay here.  It’s the same reason that you’re probably having Friday hack Pym’s micro-drones so that you can keep an eye on things for yourself.”  

Tony shrugged and gave them a bored grin.  It was some pretty sweet tech.

Pym frowned and sat forward.  “See?  This is why--” 

Hope shot her father a quelling glance.  

“Because at the end of the day,” Hope said, turning towards Tony, “we are not our fathers.  My father lost my mother and let it keep him from fulfilling his purpose as a hero.  I honor her loss by protecting the innocent, just like she did, no matter the cost.  Your father saw World War II from a bunker and let it push him into helping to create the atomic bomb.  You saw the worst of humanity up close and personal and created Iron Man to stand in between the innocent and war mongers who would destroy them.  They made their choices.  They failed.  We can be our fathers' redemption.  And we can be our mothers' vengeance.”  

This woman could give Rogers a run for his money when it came down to rousing pep talks.  “Nice speech,” Tony admitted.

“Did it work?” Hope asked, smirking.  

“Maybe.  How do you think we should proceed?”

“Let’s take a trip to Harlem.  See what this Mr. Cage can tell us.”

“Uh, no,” Rhodey said.  “I am not sending two rich-ass white folks into Harlem.  Have you lost your damned minds?  Do you have any idea how much trouble you'll stir up?”

“You have something better in mind?” Tony asked.

“Yeah.  You’re going to let me road test my new spine and do some investigating,” Rhodey said.  He flipped through the file.  "Looks like Lucas is former military.  And from what I've seen on the news, he's a good man.  Let me go in."

“Not by yourself,” Tony protested.  He’d just gotten Rhodey healthy again.  He couldn’t risk him…

“I’ll send Agent May as well,” Phil said.  

“Isn’t she the one they called the Cavalry?” Tony asked.  "Are you expecting that much trouble?"

“With you people, it's a given.  And don’t call her that.  It makes her angry.  You won’t like her when she’s angry,” Phil said.

“Hey.  That’s my line!”


	10. Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Uh oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, you can find me on Tumblr now. https://www.tumblr.com/blog/texankatefic

[](https://imgur.com/FclZYbL)

[](https://imgur.com/YTCwcuG)


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